Day by day
by readerz.paradise92
Summary: Days are meshed together for Bella after a heart-breaking incident with Jasper. She's trying to move on day by day, with very little luck. Now with a new job and a boy who she didn't know was watching she'll try to put the pieces back together, as well as deal with the illness she's neglected since saying goodbye to jasper. AH. Will end up Bella/Edward. Mentions of Bella/Jaspe
1. Chapter 1

Day 1: Sleep…sleep…sleep. Rise with gunk in my eyes. Eat something with very little nutrional value, if any. Lay back down and read, lay down and search web on phone. Daydream and overthink…Cry. Should probably shower. Don't wanna. Should at least brush your teeth. Maybe later. Should definitely take your medication…what's the point?

Day 2: See day one

Day 3: See day two

Day 4: See day three

By now I've lost track of the days. Who am I trying to kid I wasn't ever really keeping track of the days. I can't seem to keep track of anything but Jasper Whitlock. Jasper who a little over a month ago was my supposed best friend. Jasper who's whole world, Alice, broke his heart. Jasper who I was in love with…and oh, did he know it.

Sometimes my mind wanders to my time with Tyler, but not often and not for very long. I don't like to feel guilty so I don't like to think about Tyler. Before anything ever started I knew Tyler and I wouldn't work out. But I indulged him because he was sweet, genuine, and interested. It didn't really matter that I couldn't have a rational conversation with him. Most of the time his mind was so muddled with weed and alcohol. It didn't matter that I'd never love him, I already belonged to Jasper and Jasper was happily in love. I was content to see him and Alice, whom I also love, happy.

But after the incident, well the first incident, I had to end things with Tyler. It would've been wrong to keep stringing him along. I considered myself to be a lot of things. Pitiful. A sucker. A masochist. But cheater was never one of them.

But people change. You do a lot for the people you love. The people who you thought loved you too…You'd still do a lot for them. Or at least I would.

It's been 39 days since I've seen Jasper last. But, if he called me right now I'd come running. It is my way. I can't deny that smile anything…well I guess that's not exactly true. But I'm rambling. I guess that's what happens when you spend 39 days pining away. Things kinda fuse and ramble together.

**A/N: Hello. I'm very new to fanfiction...I've tried my hand at writing on here when I was younger but...I was very bad. Anyhoo Hello. This story is moderately based on something that I've been through. I think the easiest way for me to get over it is to tell this story. It's been two years since it's happened. I will try to reveal it in bits and pieces but I don't have much patience so it may not turn out that way lol. This chapter is a little all over the place and it's supposed to be. It's where her (my) head was at at that time. This will either be good or horrible I hope you'll let me know either way.**

**Oh and the medical issue will be explained. It isn't life threatening unless you don't take care of it. I'm sure some of you can guess what it is.**

**I hope to get reviews. :) Let's see where this goes.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not Stephanie Meyer, sorry I forgot to tell you before, so I don't own any of these characters. If that changes you'll be the first to know. **

Day 49:

I didn't feel horrible this morning. I had to get up twice in my sleep to use the bathroom but that's not so bad. If I feel normal then I am not sick. That makes sense right? I take a quick shot of my medication without monitoring my blood. If I feel normal then I am not sick. Breakfast was quick just a bowl of cereal and some morning talk show, neither of which are healthy I'm sure.

Dad is already at the station, probably twiddling his thumbs being the chief of police in such a small town, and mom is away on a business trip. The house is quiet. Its funny how your appliances have voices you never really hear unless it's late at night. Or your home alone. Hums and whistles and clicks fill every space in my house.

A sudden onslaught of fatigue and a bout of nausea have me retreating back to my room where I find sleep like an old friend. I drift in and out of sleep not leaving my bed until I have an hour before work. I change quickly into my uniform, scrunch my hair up with water and gel and run out the door.

It's been twenty days since I asked Shelly to transfer me to a different store. The store where I got hired, where I met Jasper...it was too difficult for me to focus there. I thought a change of scenery would do me some good, so even though my commute is a lot longer I don't mind the drive. The restaurant is set up differently here it has more of a chic urban coffee shop vibe, whereas my store—my old store— worked more like a cafeteria line.

The first thing I noticed was the floors, they were shiny, immaculately so. They hire a company to clean them every day after the restaurant closes. The second thing I noticed was how well Jasper would fit in here, his blond hair pulled back in a pony smiling at all the hip girls who walked through the doors. He would thrive.

My new manager, Mr. Banner breezes past me without so much as a nod. I refer to him as Rodney in my head but he doesn't like us to call him by his name. Very different from Shelly, whose name is actually Michelle. Mr. Banner is anal about his respect. He demands it. I don't mind too much. I don't find myself overly disrespectful in the first place.

***Flashback***

"Hello again, Mrs. Cope," I keep running my hands over my khaki's extremely nervous stepping into my first job. Mrs. Cope sits at her desk with a commanding presence. She is the general manager of the place and looking at her here I know why. She isn't afraid of the responsibility. She knows exactly how hard to push to demand her respect without being overbearing.

"I swear, if you don't start calling me Shelly you're fired." She looks up with a smile so I can see she's joking. I think.

"Sorry," I say cracking my knuckles, "I'm a little nervous."

"Don't be. You'll be a natural in no time. Take a seat Ms. Swan there's some paperwork you'll need to fill out. Direct deposit forms, insurance, retirement things like that." She goes digging through the filing cabinets for all the forms I'll need and I'm left to my own devices. Above her desk is a bulletin board full of memories. There are pictures and movie tickets, a mask, and mardi gras beads. My mom has something similar in our house documenting all of our lives in a cohesive way that ties our family and our friends together. It's homey.

Shelly is still digging when he walks into the room. The smile that spreads across his face is maddening, I resist the urge to turn in my chair and look for someone behind me, someone who is worthy of that look of adoration on his face. I avert my eyes almost immediately but in that split second I saw him. His eyes are deep and blue and piercing, with eyelashes that are a thick curtain on his cheek as he blinks. His skin is flawless not a blemish in sight and has the look of satin I imagine it soft on my finger tips.

He's built; I can tell he takes care of his body with thick muscles on his arms, shoulder, and chest. He can hardly be contained in his blue button up shirt; it strains with the effort to hold him in. One wrong move and that shirt is toast. Not that, that's a bad thing.

"Hey Shells," he said easily only taking his eyes off of me for a moment, he has an accent that is strictly southern and I melt a little at the velvety tone.

"Hey Jasper, how's it going?" He nods says something noncommittal. "This is Isabella Swan. She's our new hire."

His eyes and his lips…I mean his smile…are on me again. "It's actually just Bella." I remind her. Although if _Jasper_ wants to call me Isabella I wouldn't mind, hell he could call me sugar plum if he really wanted.

"Bella," he breathes, "Fitting," as Shelly goes back to her filing cabinet, she really ought to hire a secretary there is no rhyme or reason to that system, Jasper leans in close and I get a whiff of him. I didn't think there was a better smell in the world until he whispered, "fitting for someone so beautiful," in my ear and his breath washed over my face giving me a _real _whiff. The mix of his breath, his essence and his cologne branded themselves to my memory. I shivered.

A shiver runs up my spine at the memory. To this day I don't know if the smirk on his face was do to the blush that colored my features of not. He dazzled me from the very beginning. He would dazzle me every day I knew him. Even until the day when I didn't think I could know him any less.

**A/N: so..hi. I'm really nervous writing this and I think I said before very new. Please be as harsh (in a constructive way) as possible. And praise me if I deserve it. If you start reading and have questions I'll try to answer. Bare with me I have a crazy schedule. Oh and I don't hate Jasper. I love him, I even love Jasper/Bella ships sometimes (I'm into non cannon pairs) but he's what I needed for this story. He isn't evil...but he isn't good either. Don't hate me because I'm using him that way please. I really do love Jasper promise. :) Don't know how frequently I'll be updating. When I get my head in order I'll let you know. Until next time.**


	3. Edward

**A/N: Still not SM =( I'm kind of writing this as I go. So no set schedule. I also have no Beta so if there are mistakes or things you kinda wish wasn't there...yeah that's all on me. Sorry. But if you review and tell me the issue I'll address it and see if we can come up with a solution. =) It's time to meet Edward.**

I was so lost in my head that I my entire shift slipped away from me. Again. I smile sadly as I pass out the last order and then sigh. My co-workers around me have already started breaking down their food stations. The clanging of pots and pans intermingle with the 80's hits on the radio clashing around each other fighting for dominance in the air.

I've been here for almost a month. I don't know anyone here. All of the faces are familiar. I can even put a name to some of them. But that's as far as my knowledge goes. I didn't come here to make friends I came here to escape my memories. And that hasn't exactly worked out for me so far. Everything about everyone I see reminds me of things I don't want to remember. Can't stand to forget. Remembering hurts, but forgetting…forgetting would be an everlasting blizzard. A life full of numbing feeling and biting coldness. Forgetting would be so much worse, because you don't forget the people you care about…

I let the thought go. There will be plenty of time to obsess over that thought in privacy. I clear my head and start wiping down the expo counter. Ready for the comfort of my car, the commute home, the promise of peace and quiet as dad will be asleep awaiting his next day's work.

As I have my employee ID card prepared to clock out I hear my name.

"Isabella!" Mr. Banner comes out of the office looking a little frantic around the eyes when he spots me he relaxes. Marginally, "Good I caught you just in time. I need you to close the cash station with Edward today. Ben's has to go, his kids were rushed to the ER and Angela is freaking out and he's a fairly new parent. You know how it is." I don't know why he thinks I know how it is seeing as how I'm not a parent of any sort.

"Oh, um, I've never closed at this shop before." I barely can find the cleaning supplies in the back of the store. I haven't cared enough to try.

"You'll be fine." He says already moving on to his next task. "Eddie will answer any questions you've got. And there's a checklist under the first register." He rushes to the office to complete his end of the day tasks. The conversation has come to a close. Mrs. Banner really doesn't like him coming home late. When the door closes he gets his work done like a bat out of hell and rushes home to her. I guess that's love for ya.

I sigh. My date with my mattress will just have to wait I suppose. I look under all three registers, not really sure which one is the first and find the checklist. I glance over all of the responsibilities ticking them off in my head. Its all pretty standard: sweep floors, deep clean refrigerators, break down the soda fountain, change out signs for tomorrows specials, and move the tables in the dining room so the cleaning company can do the floors. It may take an hour. Probably less since I'll be having help.

I head towards the back trying to see if I can trick my brain into remembering which storage closet the brooms and cleaning supplies are in when I hear a crash and someone shouting. "Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck cakes!"

I whirl around, hand pressed into my racing heart, trying to find the source of the noise. Stepping back out on the food line I see several of my co-workers laughing, some tittering behind their hands and other bent over with large guffaws. When I scan the dining room I see the cause of their mirth.

In the dining room a boy dropped a chair on his foot and is proceeding to jump around screaming obscenities into the air. His hair jumps around as he does in disarray, but from what I remember his hair is a mess on top of his head regardless and the strangest mix of colors: browns and reds and coppers. Unique. He places his foot gingerly on the ground and grimaces; the pain not completely receded yet, curses again under his breath, and then flips off the people on the line still laughing at his expense. I shake my head on my way to him. This must be Edward, since he is doing part of my closing duties.

He pushes tables away at an alarming speed and flips chairs on top of the tables even faster. I now understand how he dropped a chair on his foot. He is moving at a super human speed. As I step up to help him, about to make myself known, he backs up. His back has become completely flush with my front. I feel the tight muscles through his cotton shirt as the collide with the softer parts of me. It's not a completley unpleasant feeling. Sudden mortification creeps up my body. I'm sputtering out apologies before he can even turn around. I feel the heat on my face increase with my blush. But then he turns around and I gasp.

He has the most piercing green eyes I've ever seen, emerald in their intense gaze. He quirks an eyebrow and then smirks. I didn't think it was possible for me to blush anymore. Running a hand through his hair he shakes his shoulder a little and smiles apologetically at me, on his cheeks a much lighter blush than mine.

"Sorry," he says, slow and smooth, a sweet melody. "I should pay more attention to my surroundings." When I don't respond his hand twitches. "Um, where's Ben?"

Speaking. Speaking is the appropriate thing to do when someone asks you a question. "…Hospital." When I hear what I say I rush on, "I mean, his kids are…in the hospital. He's on his way to them…and his wife! Her too. I'm pretty sure she's there. With the kids. At the hospital..."

_Whaa...?_

I am an idiot. I don't even know why I'm acting like an idiot. But I guess I'm not acting, I just am one.

His smile confirms this fact, but his words do not. "What happened to his kids?"

"Oh, um, I don't know. Bead up the nose or in the ear of something maybe. Mr. Banner didn't make it sound like it was life threatening but I don't…" He chuckles turning back to his task and taking me out of the beam of his eyes. Good, they were distracting. It's been five minutes and already he is laughing at me. "Um…so I'm closing in his stead…aren't I supposed to help you with that? I'm sorry…I mean about your foot. If I was helping, well Mr. Banner ambushed me as I was about to punch out. And I've never closed here before, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do or else I would have been—"

"Isabella."

"Bella," I clarify in a huff. I haven't taken a proper breath since I starte talking. He looks like he's concerned for my sanity. I'm not sure I was ever sane to begin with.

"Bella," a smile, "It's fine. Ben never helped me with this stuff anyway. He's such a lazy fart."He laughs and my lips want to smile but I won't let them. "I'm clumsy sometimes 'cuz I go so fast. This isn't the first time I've injured myself closing." I thought I was the only one with the talent of self-deprecation. I've never seen him as clumsy, "Relax Beautiful."

I start eyes wide and my heart pounding in my ears. "What did you call me?

"…Your name."

I can only imagine what my face looks like. I can only register how my eyes narrow at him, suspiciously. I've heard that line before. I've been a victim of charm. Charm is a mask that hides the ugliest secrets about a person. Charm is dangerous. Warnings are sounding in my head.

"Bella," he stops gauging my reaction, "Beautiful." Another pause and then, "That's what your name means in like…Italian or something. Unless I'm wrong..."

He isn't wrong. I was jumping to conclusions, and remembering a different time, a different smile, a different person.

"I'm going to go deep clean the fridge." I turn determinedly back to the line. Finding the chemical sinks in the back to clean with; I grab my iPod to drown everything out. There are three fridges that need to be cleaned all of them lower than my torso. I grab a milk crate to sit on and take the shelves off so I can reach every corner. It's kind of gross down here for something that's supposed to be cleaned every day.

I clean quickly and thoroughly before moving on to the second fridge and clean that one. When I stand to move to the next I find that Edward has beat me to it. He kneels to clean his though and for some reason I feel like I've taken the lazy way out. I push the crate out of his line of sight.

"This is the last thing we've got to do." He says without really looking at me. "You can head home if you want." I look at the time. It's only been fifteen minutes. I did one thing and yet everything _is_ done. Edward moves like a mad man. You'd think that his work would be shoddy but it is flawlessly done.

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Bella."

I nod, not sure if he sees me and not really caring either way. I punch out, spot Mr. Banner watching Edward with a worried expression on his face. I wave and walk out into the cool night air. I relish in the quiet drive home and fall into my bed still dressed in my uniform. I'm out before I can take off my shoes.

**Bella is...a mess. Right? lol. Ok, there he is. Do you like him?**


	4. Chapter 4

**So this is supposed to give you the family dynamic. There is no Edward anywhere to be seen...I know, I know but he isn't important to her yet. You have to wait for her to like him first. Um so overnight I thought I became SM but then I woke up and I realized that I wasn't. Everything twilight related still belongs to her. :( Read on. I admit it's a little boring but important to me.**

Day 50:

All to soon I hear pots and pans clashing together in the kitchen. Charlie can't find his way around the kitchen with a map. And, like me, my father is a bit quieter in his mannerisms. We are more conscious of our surroundings. The noise that is banging and pounding through the walls can only mean one thing.

Mom is home.

I turn over and try for sleep again. A few minutes later go by without incident, just as I am beginning to relax again and then there is a musical, tinkling crash. Unmistakably glass and a lot of it.

With a groan a kin to what I've heard from dad I sit up in my bed, not bothering to wipe the sleep from my eyes. My blurry vision tries to seduce me back under the covers, but I know my mother. She is terrible at cleaning up and impossible when it comes to glass. I've earned enough shards wedged into the soles of my feet to learn that lesson. Grabbing a mix-matched pair of sneakers I trudge towards my mother.

Our house is old, but sturdy. Built in a time when they made things to last, and last it has. The foundation is strong, it's part of the reason they bought this house. A house that, as a whole, could withstand the wrath that is Renee Swan; the features, the floral wallpaper, the tan carpet faded and worn. Mom's been planning to spruce her up for as long as we've been living here, almost five years. But intentions often slip her mind and dad doesn't care enough to 'spruce'. He likes the character of the house. As long as he has his 50 inch he's happy.

When I step into the kitchen mom is looking at the broom and dustpan like it's a piece of alien technology. I take the broom from her and she hands it over without complaint shooting me a grateful smile. The linoleum is covered from the stove to the kitchen with the glass glinting in the light.

"Did I wake you honey? I give her a look and she shrugs at me with a smile.

"I had a hankering for some pancakes. Did you sleep in your uniform again?"

I shrug, no need to answer, it's obvious I did. "What time did you get home last night?" I say sweeping all the glass into a pile.

"Oh I don't know darling sometime late. You were already tucked into bed tonight." When I bend down to sweep up the shards I finally realize what broke. It's her nice crystal bowl, it was an anniversary present from their friend Phil. He's been around so long he might as well be part of the family. I call him my uncle. I helped him pick out this bowl. I knew mom would love the whimsical design carved into the side.

"Mom! Do you know what this is?" She looks around her guiltily. Trying to find an escape, "Why didn't you use one of the metal or plastic bowls?"

"This one is so pretty and there's hardly ever an occasion to use it." She whines. Never mind the fact that you aren't supposed to use crystal to mix pancake batter. It's supposed to adorn your house and be a pretty center piece.

"Was. It _was_ pretty. Now it's a mess on the floor, trash. A mess you won't be able to use anymore." She pouts but doesn't stop her mission of pancakes. I hate that look on her face, it's the face of fear. She's afraid of disappointment. No one with a light as bright as my mother's should ever where that look.

"Uncle Phil is gonna be so mad," I say teasing her.

"Oh, Please. He'll hardly notice, it's not like he comes around all that often anymore anyway." She sighs, and whisks the mix a little more passionately than necessary. Not sure why that surprises me actually. My mother is an overtly passionate person. I say goodbye to the bowl as it hits the bottom of the garbage pail.

"Thank you sugar," She says when she hears the tinkling. I shrug I did it for selfish purposes, but I guess she doesn't need to know that. I guess it doesn't matter either way.

As she waits for the pan to heat up she turns and gets a good look at me. My eyes are wide his stomach somewhere near my toes, I didn't take a good look at myself before I left my room this morning. I have no idea what sort of state I'm in.

"You're eyes are a little glassy Bella," I take a deep breath to steady my voice to respond.

"That's what happens when I'm suddenly awakened from my sleep at seven o'clock in the morning." I joke, the picture of nonchalance. She purses her lips and inspects me further.

"Your face is looking a little thin too. How have your levels been?"

"Geez mom, their fine, I've just been working out since you've been gone. I lost a little weight that's all." I turn to put the broom back in the closet.

"Have you checked it this morning?" She's using her mom voice. Warnings are screaming in my head: PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

"No."

"Go do it please." She sounds exasperated. I sigh loud enough for her to hear and trudge back to my room. I look around the small space there are clothes and papers and beauty products everywhere. I can barely take one step in my room without stepping on something on the floor. I'm not sure where anything is in here, especially not my blood monitor. I haven't used it in at least a month.

I do a half-assed search before giving up and heading back out to the kitchen. I know what I'm going to say and how I'm going to say it before I can even hear my mom cooking. The guilt eats at me but not more than the fear of telling her the truth does.

"Umm…mom, my sugar is kinda low, do you think you can make some pancakes for me too, please?" I look her straight in the eye, hoping she won't call my bluff.

"Of course, dear, go sit down. I'll bring you a plate. I sit at the little round table in our kitchen. The dark mahogany doesn't match the lighter cabinets that came with the house, one of the many things mom is going to renovate. I fidget a bit playing up my symptoms so she won't ask me too many questions.

"Baby," she hands me a plate with pancakes, eggs, bacon and a glass of milk, most of which I didn't even see her cook. "You should have had some orange juice or something while you were waiting. You're shaking."

"You told me to sit and wait for you." The smell of carbs and grease waft up to my nose and the smell knocks me off my chair. Not literally, but it does make my mouth water. Man, can my mother cook.

I shouldn't eat this. I haven't checked it but I know my sugar is nowhere near low. More than likely it is a lot higher than in healthy. But the promise of the sweet, buttery carbs filling up my mouth and coating my tongue, tempting me, beckoning me to dig in. I gulp loudly, bringing the first bite up to my lips. Syrup slides down my lip and I quickly lick it off with supreme pleasure. Mom even used regular syrup for me, I haven't had regular sugar in ages; this is really a treat. Mom's always gone for work she doesn't cook for me often.

I savor every bite and sigh when the plate is finished before I give it permission to be done. If I were the only one home I would eat a whole other helping of everything, egg and bacon and milk included, maybe even two extra servings. This intense sense of hunger is not a good sign. If I feel normal than I am not sick! I chastise myself.

But I do not feel completely normal. My muscles are tightening and straining under my skin and I am confused as to why. Usually this feeling doesn't present itself until much later in the day. I can pretend I'm healthy a lot longer than this and then I remember. I forgot to take a shot before I ate. Shit! I run to my room as mom busies herself making her plate. Shuffling through papers and trinkets I catch sight of the edge of a vial. I draw up a random dosage I concoct in my head and take a shot, hoping for instant relief and knowing I won't find any. I am asleep within ten minutes.

***DBD***

"Bella," Charlie peeps his head in my room to find me in bed. I haven't really left it since after breakfast. But at least he didn't find me sleeping I'm curled up with an old edition of pride and prejudice and he doesn't question seeing me tied up with a book, "Hey, Isa."

"Hi daddy," he steps all the way in and I know it must be around five; he's still in his uniform and is in the process of taking off. I see his white wife beater peeking out from the first button of his shirt which is pulled from his slacks. His shoes will be lined up at the door as well as his harness which he locks in a table by the door.

"What are you doing holed up in here?" He doesn't ask what he really wants to. Where are the twins Alice and Rosalie? And why have I turned into a recluse? I hold my book up in answer. I've read this more times than I can remember but there is something comforting about the manners of this time that keeps drawing me back to it. This book is a haven of good and predictable outcomes.

He nods, apparently this is an acceptable answer to him, "Renee is prepping dinner, come stretch your legs with your old man." He smiles pulling his shirt off and hanging it on his forearm. "If your mother wants help with the meal I'm offering you up as a sacrifice."

I laugh full and hearty from my belly. On the few occasions he's caved to my mother's whims the outcomes were edible at best but mostly just scary. He could feed it to his suspects, the few he encounters, and they'd cave immediately. I know I would.

"Alright, Rachel Ray, keep your culinary genius from the masses. That's just being selfish."

His beard wiggles like a worm when he tries to fight off his smile. "Oh Please, Rachel has nothing on me. I'm on that Lagasse status."

"_BAM!"_ I shout and we both laugh. "Dream on Big guy."

In the kitchen mom's making lasagna and I know my father's concern was unfounded. She doesn't let anyone touch this gift. Lest her name be tarnished by our novice hands. This is her specialty; it is her baby in the kitchen. No one messes with Renee Swan's baby.

Dad comes up behind her and wraps her arms around her middle, humming something bluesy in her ear off key. She hums alongside him while still layering the noodles, meat and cheese, in perfect harmony. Eventually he lets her handle the food and the music and he just handles her, something he's good at, swaying her back and forth to the melody he gave her.

The PDA is adorable if not a little embarrassing. But my parents are always touching in public. They claim each other for the world to see even after all this time. I turn away praying their love fest stays PG.

"I decided after our conversation this morning Bella that it's been too long since Uncle Phil came by. So he's coming to dinner." Mom tells me over her shoulder. Dad takes that moment to surprise her with a kiss and she squeals. I roll my eyes.

"Okay," I call out trying to get them to untangle themselves. "I'm going to set the table. Is Mike coming too?" Mom raises her thumb above her head deepening the kiss. Shudder, "You two are gross. The chuckle a little but barely pay me any mind. I wonder what it must be like to be in love with someone so much that you can forget everything else, even your child comfort, for them. I make exaggerated gagging noises and they pull apart, a little too reluctantly if you ask me. Why do they subject me to this?

Charlie is pulling beers out of the fridge when the doorbell rings. I run to go get it giving my parents one last chance to get all their love out of the way before we eat. Pulling the door open Phil greets me with a smile and a big hug.

"It's been too long Hell Bells."

"Don't call her that!" Mom yells from the kitchen.

Then Mike makes his way in. He smiles slyly at me before slinking into the house. And planting a big kiss on my lips.

**A/N: Yep. You read that right, he planted one on her. Um, just don't be too alarmed. Mike is no Edward (no offense to any Mike Newton fans out there. Oh and he's not a Newton in this story. Just fyi.**


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